Twilight Steroline Style
by HighLadyoftheCourtofDreams
Summary: I'll try to recreate twilight with Caroline as Bella, Stefan as Edward and generally replace twilight characters with the vampire diaries ones. Some parts of it is written by Stephanie Meyer (One of my favorite writers!) I really hope you like it...
1. Preface

Preface

I'd never given much thought to how I would die — though I'd had reason enough in the last few months — but even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this.

I stared without breathing across the long room, into his dark eyes , and he looked pleasantly back at me.

Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I loved. Noble, even. That ought to count for something.

I knew that if I'd never approached him, I wouldn't be facing death now. But, terrified as I was, I couldn't bring myself to regret the decision. When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it's not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end.

He smiled in a friendly way as he sauntered forward to kill me.


	2. First Sight

First Sight

Another school day was almost done. I was heading to the lunchroom where I would meet my friends and discuss the whole day. I had quite a lot to say; most of it gossip.

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, listening to Elena telling us about Vicky, Elena's boyfriend's sister, who is a drug addict, when I first saw him.

He was sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room. He wasn't eating, though he had a tray of untouched food in front of him. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, my attention.

He was lanky, a little bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was chalky pale, paler than me, the albino. He had very dark eyes and dark shadows under those eyes —purplish, bruise like shadows. As if he was suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though his nose, all his features, were straight, perfect, angular.

But all this is not why I couldn't look away.

I stared because his face, he was so devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. A face you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old master as the face of an angel.

He was watching away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell..

"Who is he?" I asked.

As my friends looked up to see who I meant, suddenly his dark eyes flickered to mine.

He looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though in a flush of embarrassment I dropped my eyes at once.

"He is a new student. This is his first day here. I think his name s Stefan Salvatore." Bonnie said

I glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers. His mouth was moving very quickly, his perfect lips barely opening.

Strange, name, I thought.

"He is… very nice-looking." I struggled with the conspicuous understatement.

"Yes!" Elena agreed with a giggle. "He's gorgeous, of course, but don't waste your time. He doesn't date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him. Half the school have asked him on a date" She sniffed, a clear case of sour grapes. I wondered if he'd turned her down too.

I bit my lip to hide my smile. Then I glanced at him again. His face was turned away, but I thought his cheek appeared lifted, as if he were smiling, too.

After a few more minutes, he left the table. He was noticeably graceful. It was unsettling to watch. But, he didn't look at me again.

I sat at the table with Elena and Bonnie long enough to be anxious to be late for class. Bonnie, had Biology II with me the next hour. We walked to class together in silence.

When we entered the classroom, Bonnie went to sit at the black-topped lab table where we usually sit. But, there was a girl sitting on by chair. In fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the center aisle, I recognized Stefan Salvatore by his unusual hair, sitting next to that single open seat.

As I walked down the aisle I was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face — it was hostile, furious. I looked away quickly, shocked, going red again. I stumbled over a book in the walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table. The girl sitting there giggled.

I'd noticed that his eyes were quite red-crimson red.

I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by him, bewildered by the antagonistic stare he'd given me.

I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair. It smelled like strawberries, the scent of my favorite shampoo. It seemed an innocent enough odor. I let my hair fall over my right shoulder, making a dark curtain between us, and tried to pay attention to the teacher.

Unfortunately the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already studied. I took notes carefully anyway, always looking down.

I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally through the screen of my hair at the strange boy next to me. During the whole class, he never relaxed his stiff position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from me as possible. I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his pale skin. This, too, he never relaxed. He had the long sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his elbows, and his forearm was surprisingly hard and muscular beneath his light skin.

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for his tight fist to loosen? It never did; he continued to sit so still it looked like he wasn't breathing. What was wrong with him?

Was this his normal behavior? I questioned my judgment on Elena's bitterness at lunch today. Maybe she was not as resentful as I'd thought.

It couldn't have anything to do with me. He didn't know me from Eve.

I peeked up at him one more time, and regretted it. He was glaring down at me again, his now less red eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from him, shrinking against my chair, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind.

At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Stefan Salvatore was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose — he was much taller than I'd thought — his back to me, and he was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.

I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after him. He was so mean. It wasn't fair. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the anger that filled me, for fear my eyes would tear up. For some reason, my temper was hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency.

"Hey, Car, everything ok?" a male voice asked.

I looked up to see Matt Donovan, a cute, baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully gelled into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way. He obviously didn't think I smelled bad.

"Yes" I answered with a smile.

"Let's walk together to next class?"

"Won't Elena be jealous?"

"She knows we are just friends."

We walked to class together; he was a chatterer — he supplied most of the conversation, which made it easy for me. He is one of the nicest person I know.

But as we were entering the gym, he asked, "So, did you stab that new guy with a pencil or what? I've never weirder behavior."

I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed.

"He looked like he was in pain or something." He said

"I don't know," I responded. "I never spoke to him."

"He looks like a weird guy." Matt lingered by me instead of heading to the dressing room.

I smiled at him before walking through the girls' locker room door. He was friendly and clearly admiring. But it wasn't enough to ease my irritation.

I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had sustained — and inflicted — playing volleyball, I felt faintly nauseated.

The final bell rang at last. I walked slowly to the office hand in a late project. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and colder. I wrapped my arms around myself.

When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walked back out.

Stefan Salvatore stood at the desk in front of me. I recognized again that tousled bronze hair. He didn't appear to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free.

He was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time — any other time.

I just couldn't believe that this was about me. It had to be something else, something that happened before I entered the Biology room. The look on his face must have been about another aggravation entirely. It was impossible that this stranger could take such a sudden, intense dislike to me.

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, swirling my hair around my face. The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But Stefan Salvatore's back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me — his face was absurdly handsome — with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. He turned back to the receptionist.

"Never mind, then," he said hastily in a voice like velvet. "I can see that it's impossible.

Thank you so much for your help." And he turned on his heel without another look at me, and disappeared out the door.

I went meekly to the desk, my face white for once instead of red, and handed her the paper.

When I got to my car, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven, already the closest thing to home I had in this damp green hole. I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshield blankly. But soon I was cold enough to need the heater, so I turned the key and the engine roared to life. I headed back to my house, fighting tears the whole way there.

_This is really hard to make as I have to change lots of parts of the original story... So, I will only continue if you like it. Can we reach 150 views so I can post chapter 2? Love you all_


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